Free The Snow by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

English class, “is to write a contemporary parallel of a fairy tale. I will assign the fairy tale. Jonah, for example, will have The Little Red Hen. In this story, of course, no farm animal will help the little red hen raise the wheat or grind the flour, but when the loaves are baked, they all want to eat it. The moral, of course, is that if you want to enjoy the results you must put in the work first.”
    Mrs. Shevvington circled the room. She stopped at Katy’s desk and smiled at Katy. Christina knew that smile. She tried to think how to stand between fat, ugly Katy and that smile, but no solution came to her. “I’m hoping to make each story match the student,” Mrs. Shevvington said to the class. “That way it will be more fun.”
    Fun for whom? wondered Christina.
    Katy must have had the same thought. She gathered herself, ready for the blows.
    “You, Katy,” said Mrs. Shevvington, the smile growing like a blister on her skin, “will do the story of the ugly duckling.”
    Katy went so white the pimples stood out on her face like a rash.
    Gretchen and Vicki giggled.
    Mrs. Shevvington turned to Christina.
    Die, you hateful woman, Christina thought, willing Mrs. Shevvington to have a heart attack.
    Mrs. Shevvington simply smiled wider. “Christina, you will update the story of the boy who cried wolf.” Her little teeth lay between her thin lips like pellets from an air gun. “Of course in the new version, it will be the girl who cried wolf.”
    The class had expected something that would make Christina cry. This was nothing. They were disappointed.
    But Christina understood. The message was very clear.
    You may scream for help all you want, Christina, my dear. Nobody will believe you. And then, when you really need help, when the screams are loud and real — no one will come, Christina of the Isle. You are alone.

Chapter 12
    I T USED TO BE THAT the ending of school was a clock thing: the big hand on twelve and the little hand on three. But now the close of school was a physical relief of body and soul. I’m out. It’s over for a while.
    “Everybody’s coming over to my house,” said Jonah. “Want to come, Chrissie?”
    Benjamin bounded by, headed for his garage job. Suddenly it struck Christina that Benj was still in high school, though he had always planned to quit at sixteen.
    How clever the Shevvingtons were. Benjamin and Michael Jaye were the balance. If anybody noticed that right after Anya fell apart, Dolly developed strange fears and Christina behaved oddly — why, Mr. Shevvington could point out how successfully he had kept this fine young lobsterman in school.
    “Yes, I’m coming,” said Christina.
    Across the school yard Dolly flew, her new jeans so long that the rolled cuffs made pale blue saucers around her skinny ankles. “Chrissie?” she called. Her voice was as thin as a snow flurry.
    Traitor, thought Christina. Her eyes stung with hot tears that Dolly should have joined up with Gretchen and Vicki and the Shevvingtons.
    “Chrissie, don’t be mad.”
    Christina turned her back on Dolly to go with Jonah.
    “Chrissie, I need you,” Dolly said.
    They were Christina Romney’s words. Her love of helping people was as strong as her love of life itself.
    “Chrissie, dancing class is so scary. I’m in the advanced class, but I’m not as good as the advanced girls. I have to dance alone, and they laugh at me. I’ve begged the Shevvingtons, but they won’t let me drop out. They say it’s good for me to face some competition for a change. They say on the island we didn’t know anything about the real world.” Her pixie face was turned up into Christina’s, waiting for Christina to solve her problem.
    A very heavy hand landed on Christina’s shoulder. Mrs. Shevvington had materialized. Her candle-stub fingers pressed painfully between the bones of Christina’s shoulder, and then attached themselves to Dolly’s head. “You must try your very best,” said Mrs. Shevvington to